


Bunny

by AmethystTribble



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (and her husband but we're not talking about that now), Celegorm is also a baby bunny by the by, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Nerdanel loves her kids!, Pre-Darkening of Valinor, Tolkien Secret Santa 2019, literally some of the sappiest stuff I've ever written which means it's still rather contemplative, this is literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21918847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystTribble/pseuds/AmethystTribble
Summary: Nerdanel and Celegorm save a rabbit, talk about the Valar, and ultimately have a nice end to their nice day together.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2019





	Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @huanhoundofvalinor on Tumblr for Tolkien Secret Santa 2019! Please enjoy!

The rising _thud, thud, thud_ of little bare feet interrupted the _tap, tap, tap_ of Nerdanel’s chisel. She set it down among her other tools with the barest hint of a sigh. 

It had been a quiet day, one of the rare ones, and she’d managed to carve out at least a few hours of work. Her most recent commission, Lord Oromë as he first appeared before the Elves of Cuivienen, was actually starting to take shape. There was a whole deer there now! 

Nerdanel had needed this day to herself.

Fëanáro had gone into Tirion proper today to make his bi-monthly scene at court. He would arrive, make a show for his father, pick a fight, perform a speech that he let Macalaurë write on the ride there, all the usual nonsense. But perhaps since he was going at Nelyo’s request, Fëanáro would act half-way decent.

Maitimo didn’t yet understand that his father only went to court to mock others and make his half-brother’s life difficult. He had asked to go with Fëanáro, to see the diplomacy and speeches and the ‘legislative process’. He was so excited about it all, and neither Fëanáro nor Nerdanel wanted to disabuse him of the pretty veneer yet. 

Poor Kano and Moryo were dragged along as a result, the baby strapped to his father’s chest. Watching them dress for the event this morning had been amusing and precious, despite the boys’ protests. Fëanáro did like to use the children as dolls, and Carnistir wasn’t yet old enough to put up a fight. Right now, Nerdanel knew her poor youngest son looked like an extravagant nightmare of purple and gold and baby mittens.

Tyelkormo had thrown a tantrum at the prospect of being decorated and dragged to court. Nerdanel had taken pity on him, wrapped her arms around his half-dressed form and told Fëanáro that Tyelkormo could stay. So he’d been freed from the prospect of court.

Which was why Tyelkormo was trampling his way towards Nerdanel’s workroom. 

As the door crashed open, Nerdanel wiped her hands off on her trousers and started dusting at Lord Oromë’s almost-a-bicep. She could hear Tyelkormo padding on the wood floors, tip-tapping and bouncing and unable to sit still. He was waiting. He wasn’t allowed to enter her workroom, and today he had been told to behave and not be loud while Mother worked. He was trying so hard, even though Nerdanel could practically feel how he was vibrating. 

After she’d tested his resolve long enough, Nerdanel turned to her son. The second she met his eyes, Tyelkormo shouted, “Mother!”

“Tyelkormo!”

“Mother, Mother, you have to come, right now, you have to see, come on!”

He turned on heel and dashed down the hallway again. As she reached the doorway, Nerdanel could just see him disappear around a corner. Apparently, she wasn’t fast enough, because Tyelkormo ran back around the corner, and crashed straight into the wall. 

“Mother!” he cried, “Come on!”

“My love, what on Yavanna’s earth is it?” Nerdanel laughed as he grabbed her hand to make sure she was dragged along at an appropriate pace. 

“I was in the garden,” Tyelkormo gasped, and oh, Nerdanel could tell. His little feet were filthy and tracking dirt in the house. There were leaves in his hair, and the careful braid she had tied his hair in this morning- as she tied his hair back every morning, to try and mitigate damage- was falling to pieces. She could feel raw scratches on his tender hand in hers. 

“In the garden,” he repeated, as he often did when excited, “and I was practicing my aim- with the slingshot! I promise! And if Kano says different, he’s wrong and a dirty snitch-”

“Kano’s not here, Turko.”

“And I was hitting the far tree, the magnolia with the especially high branches-”

“That’s a pretty tree, don’t hurt it,” Nerdanel tried to scold, but she couldn’t quite fight her smile at his scowl. When it came to the plants and the creatures in the gardens, nothing and no one could argue with Tyelkormo. 

“It’s mean, Mother, it won’t even let the blackbirds make nests. The blackbirds! They haven’t done anything to disturb the flowers, so the magnolia shouldn’t-”

“Turko, are the blackbirds what I must see?”

“No! Right, yes, so I was practicing, and then I nearly hit an owl! It came out of nowhere, and settled in the magnolia, and it had like, _so much blood_ on its talons. And I thought that was weird, because it’s daytime.”

“Owls hunt, love, and it’s almost night,” Nerdanel said, her brows creasing. Tyelkormo was around that age where he was starting to realize how… unsavory some the animals’ actions could be; the Elves too. He was comprehending that they killed, and what killed meant these days. He was a bit young for such things, Nerdanel thought, but Fëanáro insisted that the concept of death was impossible not to learn. Especially not when the boys asked about the late Queen Miriel. 

On the nights where Nerdanel thought too hard about how her sons knew a grief and a pain and an uncertainty that no other children suffered… she felt a soft flame in her chest. She knew a fraction of Fëanáro’s anger, at those times, and Nerdanel never could decide where to direct it.

But Tyelkormo didn’t worry about such things yet, and he stamped his foot as Nerdanel tugged her hand away from his to grab some boots for the both of them.

“I know, Mama,” he whined, turning to pout at her. It made her want to gather him up and kiss his cheeks, even though she knew he would squirm horribly. He didn’t call her ‘Mama’ often anymore, not since Moryo started babbling. Such sweet, short words were for ‘babies’ apparently. Nerdanel suspected that ‘Mother’ had less to do with Carnistir, and more to do with the vocabulary lessons that Tyelkormo found so frustrating these days. He was trying to sound more like his verbose father and elder brothers.

After tying her shoes and his, Nerdanel leaned down to press a largely rejected kiss on Tyelkormo’s cheek. Right now, he was animated and burning, her wild boy. What Nerdanel wouldn’t give for him to be like this always, for him to never have red eyes and wet cheeks after his lessons ever again. 

Tyelkormo was so clever. He grabbed her hand and dragged her past the flowers and bushes and vines that he so meticulously cared for, past the kennels where he helped train the hounds, past the stables where he washed the horses, and the trees where all his bird friends lived, and the fox den only he could go near, and the stream where the ducks helped them all fish as a favor for Tyelkormo. He was so clever. 

But Nerdanel knew from experience how hard it was to feel clever in Fëanáro’s presence. She knew how her husband strived to understand everything, but never quite managed to remember on time that others thought differently from him. 

Not to mention, Nelyo and Kano were at that age where they were more hindrance than help. Macalaurë with his clever words and quick wit and ever wagging tongue, and Maitimo… Maitimo asked to be brought along to court, for Varda’s sake. It was no wonder Tyelkormo spat and bit and begged to be left behind to his birds and trees and mother, rather than be showcased and interrogated next to his brothers.

Even now, Tyelkormo’s words seemed to have failed him. Rather than explain where they were going and why, Tyelkormo just hurried along. He hated talking and describing, rather than just _showing_ and understanding. Nerdanel kept up with him, and didn’t badger him for an answer. She certainly understood the desire to simply _look_. It used to drive her up a wall how Fëanáro would describe her own techniques to her when admiring her work. It was his way of complimenting, but Nerdanel knew that she had used the softer chisel for the nose, thank you very much, she didn’t need it explained! 

As they drew closer towards whatever had so excited Tyelkormo, though, Nerdanel did take note of the closer set trees and the abundance of weeds. A question took root in her mind, and her mouth twisted in distaste.

“Tyelkormo,” she said slowly, and though he didn’t look back or change his grip in her hand, he did let out a low whine at her warning. It was frustration this time, one of Tyelkormo’s thousands of emotional sounds. Nerdanel had gotten very good at interpreting them over the years. He knew how to read her in kind.

“It was important,” Tyelkormo insisted, trying to justify straying beyond the bounds that Nerdanel and Fëanáro had set for him.

“Was it?”

This time, Tyelkormo made a disharmonious hum and pulled her along all the faster. 

They came upon a creek, and followed its bending path far enough that Nerdanel’s lips pinched together tightly and she resolved to talk to Fëanáro about a fence. She didn’t want Tyelkormo, or any of the boys, wandering off on anymore ‘important’ quests. Tyelkormo knew this area too well, and wound his way deftly through thickets and under half-fallen branches. Oh yes, they’d have to have a talk about this. 

Eventually Tyelkormo dragged Nerdanel into a glade she would have never been able to find on her own. 

The grass reeked of blood. 

“Turko-” Nerdanel gasped as he ran away from her. He fell to his knees right next to an especially tall patch a grass, and Tyelkormo shoved his hands down into the thicket. He started making his low, chirping noises, his distressed sounds that always heralded a fit. Nerdanel rushed over. 

As she loomed over Tyelkormo’s shoulder, she could see a small, quivering tuft of brown fur. This was where the smell of blood was coming from. It was bunny, Nerdanel could now tell from the twitching ears, and it was making the same types of pathetic whines as her son. Tyeklormo’s hands were very carefully petting certain places on the baby rabbit, careful not to disturb its wounds.

“Poor thing,” Nerdanel whispered. “Where ever did you find it?”

“The owl, Mother, the owl. He had blood on his claws and there was something wrong with his beak, and I saw something fluffy with him, so I shot him, and he dropped her.” 

Nerdanel assumed ‘her’ was the bunny.

“And I could hear her crying, so I picked her up, and she said she needed to go back to her mama. And so I took her here, which is where she said to go, and I found the mama rabbit and her brothers and sisters, and they were here when I left, but now they’re gone! Why?”

Nerdanel’s mouth creased, and she very carefully pulled Tyelkormo’s hands away from the bunny. Its little chest was heaving and its legs were twitching; but there was nowhere to run. Nerdanel wanted to gather Tyelkormo up in her arms and drag him away from the sight, even though he didn’t seem overly bothered. Her son’s eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set; that was determination, not sorrow or fear. Nerdanel didn’t think he quite understood what they were seeing.

“Maybe we frightened the mama,” she said. “We should go, baby, and then they’ll come back. The bunny needs her mama.”

“No,” Tyelkormo whined, doing that thing where he hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “That’s why I got you, Mama. We have to help! And you always make my hurts better.”

A choked sigh fell from Nerdanel’s lips, and the urge to grab Tyelkormo and shield his eyes returned, stronger. His little hands were covered in blood. This was so wrong. This was terrible and awful, and Nerdanel really wished Fëanáro was here, and was also desperately glad he wasn’t. 

“Turko,” Nerdanel muttered, unsure of what to say or where to begin. She squeezed his hands. “Turko, baby… We should leave her be, to her family. These things happen. There’s not always something we can do, especially not… Owls hunt, baby.”

“I know!” Tyelkormo whined again, this time louder and angrier. “I know what owls eat and how! But there was something wrong with the owl, I could hear it, and it’s too early! It’s wrong. And she’s a baby! It’s not right, you shouldn’t hunt babies!”

Nerdanel’s heart broke. What to say? What was she to say to that, to console him or… or help? Oh, Vana bless him, how did Nerdanel come out of this without traumatizing her son?

Fëanáro would tell him, _Not everything that is, is right._

But Nerdanel wasn’t going to say that. She wasn’t sure she believed such things, not in Valinor. And Tyelkormo didn’t need to carry Fëanáro’s grief, not even an ounce of it, not even a bunny. 

She brought his hands up to kiss, then let go. Nerdanel turned to look at the baby bunny and give it her full attention. The poor thing; there were two gashes from the owl’s talons. She had no healing supplies, no bandages or herbs or salves or strings or needles. Nerdanel had never been much of a healer either. But she had travelled far and wide, and much of that had been alone. She knew how to get by.

Carefully, Nerdanel laid her hands on the tiny bunny’s body, and tried to draw her fëa to the surface. She closed her eyes, and breathed. In, one, two, three, four. Out, four, three, two, one. Again and again, she breathed until the light became concentrated on her hands. And then Nerdanel slowly pushed out.

“Pray with me, Tyelkormo,” she said, not looking at him. They didn’t pray often, and the boys always stumbled over the familiar chants that their cousins knew by heart. But Nerdanel knew that Turko would give it his all now. 

“Oh, Lady Estë, I beg you heed my call.”

Turko’s little voice piped up beside her own.

“We ask that you extend your grace and light to this small corner of Arda. Provide care for this creature of Illuvatar. Please give healing and rest. We beg you, as I give a piece of myself. Guide my hands and direct my spirit. Oh, Lady Estë.”

It was working.

Nerdanel’s breath caught as the small bunny’s skin knit back together and its little chest stopped pounding so rapidly. It was working, despite Nerdanel’s concerns that Estë wouldn’t lend her ear to something so small and insignificant. But she had. It was working. 

Tyelkormo had noticed too. As Nerdanel grew silent with the effort of healing the creature, Tyelkormo’s voice was growing louder and more certain. He was making up his own prayer now.

“Please, save our friend! Thank you, thank you, please guide Mama and heal our friend.”

Oh, Turko, sweet boy, he was all but shouting. As the little rabbit snuffled and kicked and stood up, Tyelkormo cried out. Around his grin, big, happy tears fell down his cheeks.

“Mama! She’s okay!” he cried, and Nerdanel nodded and laughed. She was breathing hard, all but gasping with the effort of healing a bunny’s fatal wounds. Her spirit was not as deep as it once was. 

A part of it now permanently rested with the little boy who scooped a bunny into his arms and screamed at the sky, “Thank you, Lady Estë!” 

Now, Nerdanel did grasp Tyelkormo and pepper him with kisses.

“Thank you, Mama!” he laughed in her embrace. “You did it, I knew you could do it!” 

Tyelkormo set the bunny down and crawled firmly into her lap. He made some noises towards the creature as it hopped off; off to join its own mother, who had come closer to the edge of the glade. There were three other bunnies with the mother rabbit, who all clambered around their sister. It occurred to Nerdanel that she and Tyelkormo had basically returned that small creature from the dead, from the perspective of the rabbits. 

Nerdanel was glad to have done it. 

She pressed a longer kiss to Tyelkormo’s brow, and murmured, “Sweet boy.”

He turned to look up at her with his bright smile. Though his hair, eyes, and skin inclined many to liken Tyelkormo to Telperion, Nerdanel had always seen him as Laurelin. He shined so brilliantly. He burned, his fëa like a beacon; like Fëanáro and all of their sons. To think, she had feared that his likeness to Queen Miriel was an ill-omen. To think she’d feared his spirit would be weak. Not this boy, not any of her boys.

“Mama,” he said, in awe, “I didn’t know the Valar could do that.”

Though Nerdanel tried to fight it, she knew her smile came off just a little bitter. It was fine. Tyelkormo was too young to notice.

“They can, Turko. If you pray, if you ask for guidance and love, and love and provide service in return, Oromë will make you shots straight, Irmo will guard you dreams, Aulë will help you artistic pursuits, and Yavanna will help your garden grow. Estë and Nienna will heal body and spirit, Varda and Manwë will guide your heart and mind. The Valar can help everywhere, if you want them to and you are worthy.”

Nerdanel wasn’t sure Fëanáro would be pleased with the wonder that talk of the Valar had inspired in Tyelkormo’s eyes. But her son had saved a life today, and he had done so by listening and having faith; neither of which were qualities Fëanáro excelled at. Tyelkormo was so good. Turko was such a sweet, clever boy, and Nerdanel had never wanted to nurture that more than she did in this moment.

Tyelkormo spoke a different language than the other boys. He spoke Nerdanel’s language, with eyes and ears and heart focused outward rather than on his own swirling thoughts. Tyelkormo couldn’t articulate himself the way Fëanáro always wished he did, but never had he misunderstood another’s cry for help. The Valar would appreciate that about him, more than any of Finwë’s court or Fëanáro’s forge. 

Nerdanel kissed Tyelkormo one more time, then took his hand so that they could begin the trek home. As the lights began to mingle and the owl went out to hunt those rabbits again, Nerdanel began to teach him more prayers. Those words, at least, Tyelkormo didn’t stumble over. He declared them loud and clear.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little fluff piece! I'd love comments and/or kudos if you feel so inclined to read them, thank you for reading either way! Merry Christmas Eve, and I'll see y'all in the next decade.


End file.
